


It's all Fun and Games Until...

by echoes_of_another_life



Series: Picture Inspired Fic [5]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst and Porn, Conventions, Hand Jobs, Hurt Jensen Ackles, Jealous Jensen, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, RPF, Supernatural Convention, matchmaker misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1264018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everywhere Jensen turned, there was Jared, which wasn’t unusual except now everything was intensified. Jared’s smile was blinding, his face relaxed, radiant; lips curved upward, just enough to form the hint of a dimple, his eyes hooded, half-closed. His jaw relaxed, unclenched making his lips part ever so slightly. It was pure sex and it was aimed at Jensen, always at Jensen like he was the only person in the room worth looking at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's all Fun and Games Until...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for wings128 who gave this picture prompt

It’s all Fun and Games Until…

 

Jensen was the first to leave the stage after the shirt signing, and auction were over. As usual, there were more questions than they had time, but for once he wasn’t sorry to have it over. He was in too much of a hurry to wonder about his feelings, or the pit in his stomach that had started out small, but was growing, spreading up into his chest, until it almost hurt to breathe. He didn’t even want to think about it, of Jared bending over the way he had, and Misha… Jensen had laughed at the time, but the hollow sound of it still echoed in his ears, mocking his hard fought for reserve. 

It wasn’t even jealousy, it was... something he couldn’t quite understand or put a name to, but jealousy seemed, small, petty and this was so much more than that. It hurt, sure, a deep, agonising throb of hurt that ricocheted outward, vibrating along every nerve, travelling up through muscle and bone, to circle his heart like a vice. Squeezing it tighter with each thumping beat, until he felt he could almost choke on it. 

He was torn up inside, emotionally wounded, and confused; and if he were honest, a little lost. Like someone had just pulled the rug out from underneath him, leaving him unsteady and off balance. Only the rug in question was six-foot-four, and he wasn’t so much pulled as bent over.

“Hey, Jen, wait up,” Jared said, the words rushed as Jared quickened his pace, and tried to catch up, leaving a silent, but watchful Misha behind.

Jensen paused, barely. His upbringing and manners causing him to question his actions, but emotion won out as he took a breath, sucked in air through his teeth and marched purposely across the empty room, and toward the back entrance. He couldn’t deal with this… this feeling, couldn’t even name it let alone acknowledge it.

“Jensen, hey?” Jared said, just a few paces behind, his long-limbed stride making short work of what little advantage Jensen’s hasty exit from the stage had given him. 

“Why don’t you chase after Misha?” Jensen said, the words quiet, mumbled, but not enough to have gone unheard. 

“What?” Jared said, his voice sharp, more an expulsion of air than speech, but they’d both heard the question, and now it hung in the air between them, as Jared drew level with his co-star, his friend, best friend, at least until a few minutes ago. He reached out when Jensen refused to stop, Jared’s fingers curling around Jensen’s bicep, pulling him back, and around to face Jared. 

Jared took note of Jensen’s flushed features, his short, staccato breaths, his nostrils flaring on every exhale. Sure he’d been walking pretty fast, but it was more than that, Jared could tell, and so he waited. He watched Jensen take a deep, shuddering breath; his gaze fixed somewhere over Jared’s right shoulder, and felt heat rise up between them. 

“You’re angry?” Jared said, several creases appearing to mar the otherwise smoothness of his forehead, a frown that deepened in the answering silence. 

“Jensen?” 

“I’m tired Jared that’s all, just tired,” Jensen said. “Australia, man. It was a long flight, and I’m; just tired. 

“Yeah, tell that to your face,” Jared said, and then frowned at Jensen’s lack of response, the refusal to make eye contact, and the slight, but noticeable waver to Jensen’s indrawn breath. “Wait, you’re hurting, at least tell me why.” 

“I don’t know, Jared.” Jensen shook his head, the honesty of his words surprising even him. He lifted his hands, exasperated, and then lowered them again. “I’m just not feeling it today, can we just leave it at that?”

“But,” Jared began.

“Jared, please, let it go.” Jensen looked away. His gaze skimming past Misha and toward the door for a brief moment before he glanced back and made eye contact with Jared, softening his tone at the matching look of confusion he saw there. “Just stay here, and keep Misha out of trouble. I’m gonna walk it off.”

“Wait, I’ll call Cliff…”

“Christ, I’m not a child,” Jensen said. The anger resurfacing to overshadow the pain, as he pulled his arm free of Jared’s grasp and strode purposefully toward the exit. 

…

Jensen was grateful that most of the day’s activities were over. They’d wrapped up the autograph session, and the afternoon’s Q and A, which just left the photographs. He needed to walk off the cause of his mood so that his smile was genuine, and the fun flowed. He was grateful to the fans, for their continuing support of the show, and his career, and the last thing he wanted was to spoil their moment with a scowling reminder of the event. He wasn’t even angry, at least not with Jared, nor Misha. He was angry with himself, at his reaction to Jared and Misha’s antics. He was used to whatever came his way when it came to those two, but usually it was Jared and Jensen against whoever. He wasn’t used to being on the other side of Jared’s high jinks, an innocent bystander, and if he were honest, it hurt. It hurt to be on the side-lines of anything when it came to Jared, something Jensen thought he had under control.

His feelings for Jared. 

Jensen liked order. He liked to be in control of himself at all times, rehearsed interviews until he had them down pat so there were no surprises. He knew when to smile, and how often, how much to give and how much to hold back, and when it came to his private life, there were things Jensen needed to hold onto. Things about himself he needed to keep, well, private, because it helped him as person, helped him function in the spotlight, and retain a sense of who he was, and while his friendship with Jared was out in the open, shared with photographers, and fans alike, his feelings for Jared weren’t. Not even Jared knew how Jensen really felt, hell; Jensen was only just coming to terms with it, and yes he was angry, because if today proved anything it was that when it came to Jared Padalecki, Jensen was anything but controlled, and that surprise was the name of game. 

Jensen took a deep breath, scrubbed his hand up over his face, and into his hair, plastering a smile to his face as he pushed to open the door and stepped out into the afternoon’s sun. He had no intention of wandering far, alone in a strange city, but he needed something, a few minutes alone at least. 

…

“What was that?” Misha said, as Jared drew level, and smiled weakly in Misha’s direction. 

“Beats me, he said he’s tired.” Jared shrugged, half hoping Misha could fill in the piece Jared was so obviously missing, the other half hoping he hadn’t heard Jensen’s minor outburst, or noticed his discomfort. 

“Funny, I’ve never seen tired look quite that shade of green before,” Misha said, and grinned at the way Jared’s frown deepened; his pupils widening, bleeding outward to hide the blue in his hazel eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Jared said. He raised his hands, palms facing upward, and then dropped them back to rest at his side, mimicking Jensen’s earlier movement, causing Misha’s grin to widen. 

“You’re not going to go after him?” Misha asked. 

“He said he wants to be left alone,” Jared replied, sounding a little lost himself, and much younger than his twenty-seven years. 

“How very Garbo of him.” Misha shook his head, hooked his arm through Jared’s and pulled him back the way they’d come, skirting the crowded auditorium, smiling at the steward as he made his way toward the green room, Jared in tow. 

“Where are we going,” Jared glanced over his shoulder, hoping Jensen had changed his mind, and his mood and come back, but the room remained empty, and the door firmly shut. 

“For a drink, and a talk,” Misha said, his gaze following Jared’s. “Somebody’s got to knock some sense into you two, may as well be me.”

…

The drink in question turned out to be orange juice, despite Misha eying the bottle of Patrón Añejo, longingly. If it wasn’t for the photo session, and Jensen’s mood, he might have given it the attention it deserved, but right now Jared needed him, they both did, whether they knew it or not. 

Misha had an inkling for some time, but that’s all it was, a suspicion, that and a few offhand comments among the crew, nothing untoward or malicious, both Jensen and Jared had, and deserved more respect than that. Still, those closest to them had noticed, occasionally shared the notion that there was more to Jared and Jensen’s relationship than what appeared on the surface, but it wasn’t until Misha had bent Jared over to sign his shirt and seen Jensen’s reaction that the suspicion had blossomed into knowledge. Sure, Jensen had covered it well, laughed even, but Misha had been around them both for a while now, more often than not the butt of that laughter, enough to know it lacked Jensen’s usual warmth, and laughter lines for it be genuine. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Jared said, mistrustful of Misha, and with good reason. They were always pulling pranks on each other, and Jared was sure this was just another of Misha’s jokes. It had to be. 

“Ask yourself, if the situation were reversed, and I’d bent Jensen over, lined my cock up against that gorgeous ass of his,” Misha said, laying it on thick and noticing the way Jared’s eyes darkened dangerously. He heard Jared’s sharp intake of breath as his fingers curved inward toward his palms, knuckles white, and shoulders tense. “Well, I guess I don’t need to ask how you’d feel.”

Jared swallowed, shook his head to clear the image of Jensen bending over for Misha, for anyone, even in jest the thought rankled, tormented. “I think I’ll take that shot of Patrón after all,” Jared said, much to Misha’s amusement. 

…

“I don’t believe it. I mean I believe it, but I don’t believe it,” Jared said, well into his second shot of Tequila. 

“Okay, that’s more than enough alcohol for you, light weight.” Misha reached for Jared’s glass, tipping it back, and drinking down what remained of the amber liquid and relishing the burn. 

“What now?” Jared bit down on his lip, chewed it nervously, almost jumping out of his chair as a familiar sounding footfall approached then passed by the green room.

“Do you love him?” Misha asked.

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend,” Jared replied.

“That’s not what I asked,” Misha said.

Jared sighed. He took a moment to think about Jensen, about their friendship, and how his life had changed since the moment they’d met. He thought back to the handshake that had cemented their relationship, that first touch, and how they hadn’t been able to stop since. It had begun with pats on the back, a job well done, an arm across the shoulder at photo sessions, a touch here, another there, but it was more than physical. Jensen’s encouragement of Jared, his support touched Jared in ways no other did. The way he smiled at Jared, with such warmth and affection, had a way of reaching inside of Jared and lighting him up from the inside, a caress to the soul, and oh, God, it was true.

He wanted to say yes, to shout it, yes! He loved Jensen, but he’d hadn’t realised, until now, that loving Jensen and being in love with Jensen were two different things, and he was. He was in love with Jensen, but it was so new, and fragile, and yet, so strong, and resolute, and no wonder Jensen looked the way he did because right now, all Jared could do was swallow, and nod in Misha’s direction.

“Good, then first we get you some coffee, and after we decide how to get you your man.” Misha grinned. 

…

Jensen was already in the room that had been set up for the photographs when Jared and Misha arrived, and he was smiling, much to Jared’s relief. 

“Hey,” Jared said, voice hushed and soft as he stroked a hand down Jensen’s arm, just briefly before stepping back to stand at his side, close enough that his arm brushed against Jensen, even with the slightest movement. 

Jensen opened his mouth to apologise to both Jared and Misha, but was cut off when the photographer asked them to take a few practice shots to gauge the lighting and focus, posing Jared in the middle, flanked by Jensen and Misha either side. 

“Feeling better,” Misha asked as the crowd outside began to slowly filter in, forming an orderly line behind the stewards, some smoothing down their hair, others straightening clothes, while the rest deposited their bags, and cameras on the nearby table for safekeeping. All eyes on the three of them as they broke apart ready for whatever pose the fans requested. Some silly, others requesting hugs from one or the other, sometimes all three, each eager, and more than happy to oblige, but all the while Jared remained close to Jensen. A touch here, a brush of the arm there, and once during a particular enthusiastic hug, he smoothed his hands all the way down Jensen’s back, stopping at the waistband of his jeans to just; linger. His body held close, tight with Jensen’s, and his breath hot against Jensen’s cheek.

“Have you been drinking?” Jensen whispered, stepping closer to Jared as the photographer adjusted his camera, close enough that no one but Misha could hear. 

“I don’t know,” Misha said, “You leave him alone for two seconds…”

“He wasn’t alone,” Jensen said. He raised an eyebrow at Misha, a mock scowl settling on his face.

“And don’t I know it?” Misha said, and winked at Jared, who glanced across at Jensen and shrugged.

Jensen’s smile slipped, just for a second, but the mood in the room was too cheerful, and the fan’s enjoyment infectious and Jensen soon found himself laughing, and going along with every suggested pose. Holding hands with Misha for what looked like a slow dance, arm wrestling with Jared, and several “Charlie’s Angels” poses, which was a firm favourite among the fans. The fun flowed, until someone suggested, Jared lift Jensen up into his arms. Jensen hesitated. Jared was tall, strong, sure, but Jensen wasn’t exactly small, but before he had time to voice his objection, he was literally swept off his feet and into Jared’s embrace, and held there, close to Jared’s chest. 

Jared held on, longer than necessary, hefting Jensen closer, one arm around Jensen’s back and under his arm, the other tucked securely behind Jensen’s knees as he brought him level with his face. “I missed you,” Jared whispered, skimming his lips against Jensen’s ear, his voice hushed, drowned out by the camera flash, and several cheers from those next in line for their photo. 

Jensen turned his head, ready to laugh at Jared’s sentimentality, only Jared was right there. His face level with Jensen’s. His mouth slightly parted, his tongue snaking forward to wet his lips. So close, close enough that Jensen needed only… he could hear the fan’s laughter, but it sounded distant, muted and somewhere in the background a camera flash went off as he leaned in, an inch away… he was so close… so…

Jensen jumped as someone, Misha coughed loudly, and slapped Jared on the shoulder. “Okay, big guy, time to quit flexing those muscles,” Misha joked, but there a slight edge to his voice, and a look of caution about his face, that made Jensen pause.

Christ, he’d almost… what? Kissed Jared. 

Jensen told himself it was fine. He’d just been caught up in the hilarity of the situation that was all. Jared would see that, understand. Jensen was saved from all out panic when Jared laughed, and lowered Jensen to his feet, held on just long enough for Jensen to steady himself, before opening his arms for a waiting fan. 

“You’re not on your own, you know,” Misha said, siding up to Jensen as Jared hugged a fan close to his chest for the benefit of the camera. 

“I don’t,” Jensen began, turning to face Misha, half expecting to see mischief there, and instead finding understanding, and the smile of friendship that by now was all too familiar. 

Misha held Jensen’s gaze a moment longer before tilting his head in Jared’s direction. “He feels it too.”

Jensen opened his mouth, denial ready and was interrupted by the photographer calling it a wrap. He glanced up to find the room almost empty, the last of the fans already collecting their belongings, several waving in his and Misha’s direction as Jared shook hands with the last of them, before turning back to face Jensen, and smiling. 

“Go get ‘em Tiger,” Misha said, slapping Jensen’s ass as he nodded toward the waiting steward, a sign that he was ready to leave, behind the last of the fans and the photographer. 

…

“So,” Jared began as Misha quietly closed the door behind him.

“So?” Jensen replied. 

“Jealous, huh?” Jared said, concern evident in his voice despite the huge grin. He stepped forward, causing Jensen to take a step back. 

“Depends, do I have reason to be?” Jensen asked, only half joking.

“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?” Jared said, taking another step forward, and another, until Jensen’s back was flush against the wall. 

“First check Misha hasn’t left that camera running,” Jensen laughed, nervously. “I mean I wouldn’t put it past him, and…” 

Jared leaned in silencing Jensen with his mouth and almost tasted the contented sigh that escaped Jensen’s lips as Jensen swayed forward, clutching at Jared’s shirt for purchase with one hand. The other sliding into Jared’s hair, teasing in between the soft strands and curving around the back of Jared’s head as he tightened his hold on Jared and dragged him closer. 

“Tell me you want this,” Jared whispered against Jensen’s mouth, easing back slightly. 

“Jared?” Jensen moaned. His fingers forming a fist around the material of Jared’s shirt as he pulled him back in. 

“I need to hear it, Jensen,” Jared said. 

“I,” Jensen began then jumped when a loud noise echoed down the corridor outside. “I do, Jared, just… not here, okay?”

Jared took a deep breath, nodded as he took several steps back, straightening the creases in his shirt as the door opened and a steward stepped inside to ask if they were ready to leave. 

…

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of secret looks, and stolen kisses, no time for words or romantic gestures, just lips and hands which in part satisfied, but also drove Jensen crazy with want. Everywhere he turned, there was Jared, which wasn’t unusual except now everything was intensified. Jared’s smile was blinding, his face relaxed, radiant; lips curved upward, just enough to form the hint of a dimple, his eyes hooded, half-closed. His jaw relaxed, unclenched making his lips part ever so slightly. It was pure sex and it was aimed at Jensen, always at Jensen like he was the only person in the room worth looking at. 

They’d agreed now wasn’t the time or the place, but then Jensen hadn’t expected to find Jared asleep in the green room. His hair mussed, cheeks puffed out slightly the imprint of the sofa cushion propped beneath his head visible. Jensen could see Jared’s eyes moving beneath heavy lids, eyelashes fluttering to the unsteady rhythm of a dream. He swore he wouldn’t wake him, had every intention of walking away, but then Jared whispered his name, soft sounding and full of longing. Jensen paused, closed his eyes, hand hovering over the door handle. He meant to open it, to walk through, but found himself locking it instead, turning back around and retracing his steps.

“Hey,” Jensen whispered. He hunched down between Jared’s splayed thighs and reached up, stroked a wayward strand of hair away from Jared’s forehead and waited for Jared to open his eyes. 

“Jensen?” 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Jensen said, his voice hushed, a smile in place, ready as Jared blinked, once, twice, and then opened his eyes. 

“Come here,” Jared urged and waited as Jensen rose up on his knees and leaned forward, smoothed his hands up, along soft warm denim, thumbs dragging on the inseam of Jared’s thighs.

 

“Closer,” Jared said as he pulled himself upright to a full sitting position and patted his thighs. “Here.”

Jensen got to his feet, and leaned forward at half height, toward Jared. His hands gripping onto the sofa, either side of Jared’s head and pressed one knee into the cushion, and lifted his leg to straddle Jared’s thighs. He took a deep breath, lowered himself down, and shifted forward slightly. “Better?” 

“Much,” Jared said, all traces of sleep gone. He reached up, and cupped Jensen’s face, his thumb tracing the line of Jensen’s jaw and up higher to stroke across his cheek, fingers rasping against stubble. “Been waiting forever for this,” Jared said, staring Jensen in the face as he pulled him down. The kiss was soft, slow, an intimate meeting of mouths, and shared breath. Jared slid his hand around Jensen’s back, trailing a sure, definite stroke up his spine, neck, to cup Jensen’s head, fingers splayed around the back. The heel of his palm resting against Jensen’s cheekbone, holding Jensen steady while Jared tasted, explored, dipped his tongue into the warmth of Jensen’s mouth only to retreat, and then dip back in.

“Please,” Jensen moaned huskily, heart pounding in his chest, and his breath leaving him in a rush of expelled air. He stroked his tongue against Jared’s, sucked it into the warmth of his mouth, took his bottom lip between his teeth, letting the flesh drag through the bite, and the kiss went from soft and slow, to hard and fast. Need overtaking want, in a rush to be met. 

Jared moaned, lifted up against Jensen, and rolled his hips, his cock already hard, chafing beneath the confines of denim, and pulsing against Jensen’s thigh. “Feel that?” Jared breathed, and slipped his free hand past the barrier of Jensen’s shirt, palm flat and fingers splayed against the heat of Jensen’s stomach, just above the waistband of Jensen’s jeans, and felt goose bumps rise up, and press into his palm. One finger slowly circling the button as, he kissed Jensen harder, and felt the button give beneath his hand.

Jensen pulled back, sucked in a much needed breath, and glanced downward, toward Jared’s hand, as it hovered, still, unmoving over Jensen’s zipper, the soft, faded material of Jensen’s jeans doing nothing to disguise the hard line of his cock. He swallowed, realised what Jared was waiting for, and nodded his assent.

Jared groaned, as Jensen braced one hand against Jared’s chest, felt the rise and fall as Jared’s breathing sped up. His heart thumping beneath Jensen’s splayed fingers. 

“You sure?” Jared breathed, the words unhurried, and slightly slurred.

Jensen nodded once more, already tugging Jared’s belt loose, releasing the buckle and pulling apart each button as he eased back, dragging Jared’s jeans and shorts with him, taking his own weight on his knees to ease them down; just enough. 

Jensen had seen Jared naked before, neither shy when it came to changing on set, nor showering at the gym, but this was different. This was Jared hard and wanting, cock already wet with pre come. Hair still mussed from sleep. Eyes slanted, dark with arousal, cheeks flushed, and mouth open, bottom lip swollen from where Jensen had worried it with his teeth. 

“So fucking beautiful, Jared,” Jensen whispered. His breath catching at the back of his throat, and heard the sound of his zipper slide down to break through the hush that followed, and felt cool air brush against his cock. He groaned, jerked forward, into Jared’s waiting hand, the other, splayed across Jensen hip to ground him, hold him steady.

“Easy,” Jared whispered, his hand tightening on Jensen’s hip, shunting him forward until he could feel the wet slide of Jensen’s cock against his own, and watched Jensen’s head tilt back on a deep, guttural moan.

“Wanted this,” Jensen gasped. “So long, Jared,” Jensen continued between breaths, and moaned louder. The ache already building in his chest, spreading across the taut muscles of his stomach, and settling in his groin when Jared’s hand fisted around his cock, both their cocks, and rolled his hips, until his cock slid up, hard and tight against Jensen’s.

Jared rolled his hips again, harder, more forceful, easing down, and then tilting his hips up, the head of his cock bumping against Jensen’s, smearing pre come up the hard length of Jensen’s shaft and heard Jensen groan, low in his throat.

“So good, Jared.” Jensen said, urging Jared on to faster, harder thrusts. He stroked his hand down Jared’s chest. Popping each button in turn, revealing tanned skin, pulled tight over taut muscle, and groaned louder, slid his hand lower still, ghosted his fingers across Jared’s ribs, down his stomach and felt each muscle flex, tighten at Jared’s indrawn breath. 

“Do it,” Jared said. 

The ache in his voice caressing the outer shell of Jensen’s ear, his breath hot, ragged, urging Jensen on, causing him to shudder as Jensen slid his hand all the way down, until he felt the brush of coarse hair against his fingers.

“Yeah, Jen” Jared said. The words reaching out, to wrap around Jensen like a physical embrace, warm, encouraging.

Jensen slid his hand even lower, stroked his thumb over the head of Jared’s cock, nail dragging gently against the slit before twining his fingers with Jared’s and working them downward, all the way to the base, before sliding them back up with long, slow strokes. His shoulders rose and fell with each up-stroke, his breathing loud, short shallow breaths as he struggled to suck air into his lungs. “Jesus Jared,” Jensen groaned, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Jared’s, his gaze cast downward, watching as Jared lifted up into their joined hands, and then eased back. Once, twice, pre come beading from Jared’s slit, as Jensen tightened his hand around Jared’s and increased the pressure, groaning at the heavy weight of Jared’s, thick, hard cock sliding up, and down against his own. 

Jensen breathed in, and held it; almost there. He glanced up, eased away slightly to look at Jared, and caught the way Jared’s cheek flushed a deep, crimson red. Watched Jared drag his bottom lip into his mouth, caught it between his teeth, as he lifted up again, eyes tight closed as Jensen stroked upward, faster, shorter strokes guiding both their hands, up over the head of each of their cocks and back down, tightening his grip around the base.

“Open your eyes,” Jensen urged, and groaned when Jared did, hazel meeting green. Jared’s pupils blown wide with arousal, brown radiating out from the pupil giving way to blue, as Jared thrust up again into the tight, warm cradle of their joined hands. 

“Almost,” Jared groaned. “Come on Jen,” Jared groaned louder, and used his thumb to press the length of his cock against Jensen’s, pushing it against the underside of the head to circle, and rub, until Jensen jerked forward, and came in hot thick spurts over Jared’s hand and cock. 

“Oh, God,” Jared groaned, and rolled his hips, once, twice before joining Jensen, Jensen’s hand coming up to muffle Jared’s loud, lengthy groan, breath hot, panting against Jensen’s palm.

“You good?” Jensen asked, pausing a beat for Jared to catch his breath, chin resting on Jared’s shoulder, as he sucked in a deep breath, listened as his heartbeat slowed, settling once more to an even, steady rhythm. 

Jared shuddered slightly, buried his face in Jensen’s neck, and rested his lips against Jensen’s pulse point, mouth open, and breath still hot against Jensen’s skin. “Gonna fuck you so hard when we get home,” Jared promised. 

“Funny thing,” Jensen sighed, long and hard, tilting his head back to give Jared better access. “Feels like I’m already home.


End file.
